The Glory Days of Vocal Adrenaline
by TheTBone
Summary: Their talent makes them unstoppable. Their dedication makes them untouchable. Add Shelby Corcoran into the mix, and you get an unthinkable team. You get Vocal Adrenaline. Pre-Glee.
1. Don't Get the Wrong Idea

Their talent makes them unstoppable. Their dedication makes them untouchable. Add Shelby Corcoran into the mix, and you get an unthinkable team. You get Vocal Adrenaline.

**I would say I own Glee, but Shelby might overhear me lying...and Shelby scares me...**

Warm was not likely an adjective you would traditionally use to describe Shelby Corcoran. Hot-tempered as magma or as cold as dry ice, sure, but warm? Never.

Contrary to popular belief, Shelby Corcoran was not always this way. She wasn't born with the talent of being able to make the toughest man tremble by a simple look. It was an art, a dangerous art developed from years of mistakes.

But with years of mistakes, broken promises, and failed attempts, Shelby carried only one regret with her. And trust her, that one regret was more than enough. Each day it hurt just a little worse, got a little more difficult because she knew the time was growing limited. Every day she missed something, each second a step in her life that she would never get back, all because of a mistake. The mistakes grew into the regret, the cancerous price of screwing up.

Shelby Corcoran has trust issues. She trusts no one, and that stems from trusting too much. She doesn't even trust herself anymore, in fact that's who she puts the least amount of faith in, for she knows at the end of the day it was her decision. She thought it was right, but it was a selfish decision on many levels. A little girl growing up without her mother and a mother trying to get through life without her daughter. An ink pen and a piece of paper ruined her life, and she would never get past it again.

She thought that was what she wanted, she never thought she'd grow attached, but she was wrong. Oh so very wrong. And it cost her the present, and it cost her her future.

She shook her head as if to shake all of the depressing thoughts away. She needed to focus. She needed this to work out, because she wouldn't tolerate failure anymore. Not after twelve long, miserable years. Not from herself and certainly not from her students.

She was going to be tough. She would be hard-core, no nonsense, no funny business whatsoever. Funny business could mean the difference between achieving dreams and being stuck in this town. But before we begin, let's make something perfectly clear.

Shelby Corcoran was not stuck in this town. She was here by choice. Period. No matter what anyone told you, that was the truth.

Sure, she failed as an actress. But to an extent, it was by choice.

No, she wasn't the most talented (not that she'd ever tell you or anyone else that), but she still had talent. A lot of it, too. But her talent was raw and young and pure. And that talent thrived…before.

Before all the stresses of life and that pesky little regret. That regret that was the blip on her stardom radar. The blip made her realize thing she'd never realized before. It made her grow up in painful ways.

And while her supposed failure made her harder it undoubtedly made her better too. She was more alert now and more determined. She was more cautious, but looser too, with herself. She didn't have everything figured out anymore, and she kind of liked it. Like throwing some caution to the wind and surprising herself. Being open to a life other that with Broadway, because deep down she knew that was never really her dream to begin with, it just took some little bumps to realize it.

The day she gave up that baby was the day she knew she wanted to be around them. Well, maybe not actual babies, but young people. She wanted to help them achieve their dreams, and she knew in order to help them, she would have to make them realize how bad they really wanted it.

If only someone else were there to tell her that. Before she wasted what she thought she wanted and gave up the only thing that had ever really mattered in the first place.

Shelby Corcoran was about to become a human version of a strainer, figuring out whom really wanted this dream there were all convinced was theirs. They wouldn't see it now, and chances are many were never going to thank her for these practices and the coaching style she had planned, but she just hoped that it would work. She didn't want them to feel like she did. No one deserved that.

She'd never wanted to work around teenagers or children, hell; she'd barely ever even been one herself, always striving to grow up way too fast and living life like the sprint instead of the marathon. But she owed it to herself to make sure that others didn't live with regrets, because she knows one could be the straw that broke the camel's back, no matter how tough that camel may be. She owed it to herself. She owed it to her daughter.

Walking through the doors of the familiar high school armed with experience, this knowledge, and a slight sense of cynicism, she stepped in what would turn out to be the best, the worst, the most natural, the most challenging, and the years with the most twist and turns of her entire life, little did she know it now.

It was the beginning of the school year at Carmel High, and she would be coming in to replace Mr. Thomas Stein. He was tough, she knew he was, but she was going to be better. She was determined to be better.

He had been coaching for years and years his track record acceptable but nothing extremely impressive, winning his fair share of Sectional titles, a handful of Regional ones, and a couple State ones. They'd made it to Nationals only once. They didn't place. But they made it nonetheless. The kids were rather confident. It was better than most Ohio teams did. It was actually rather impressive.

But Shelby Corcoran was going to show that it was actually quite unacceptable. If they wanted it bad enough, they'd give more than one hundred percent. There would be no more free rides. They'd not stop at making it; they wouldn't even stop at winning. They were there not to injure, but to kill. To demolish. To absolutely squash without exception. She could be their best friend and help them win. The sky was the limit. But she could also be their worst nightmare. And she was perfectly okay with that. She wasn't here to make friends, she wasn't here to please, and she was here to win and to help in her own harsh, unique, relentless, special way.

She was a fresh face, adrenaline absolutely pulsing through her urging, musical veins. It was teeming under her skin. The need to sing, the need to succeed, the need to move and push and mentor. She had the adrenaline. The Vocal Adrenaline.

**I love reviews more than Rachel loves Streisand!**


	2. Don't Be Stupid

**My elaborate plots and schemes to steal Glee from Ryan Murphy thus far have proved unsuccessful. So as of right now, I don't own it. **

She got sick of it one day. One day out of the blue she decided that this wasn't going to happen, and she wouldn't waste her time.

She remembers where she was. How could she not, it was only a matter of days ago. God, was that just days ago? It seemed like long gone were the days of sitting around on one of her sparse pieces of furniture, reading scripts for auditions she knew she'd never get much less attend. Over was the time she spent trying to find an agent that'd stick with her and not laugh in her face and slam the door because of her lack of experience and reputation of a bad attitude.

Not that she cared.

But she had tried. Hard at first, too, trying to convince herself this was the right thing. Plastering that ever-importance show face on in the mirror and to the world. She was so young. So very young arriving in New York, trying to gain that enthusiasm.

The thrill quickly wore off and it all unraveled rather fast. There was always that nag, that snag in the fabric of her seemingly perfect plan. She never thought about it. She'd perfected that habit of pushing her emotions down so deep she didn't even have to deal with them, instead sucking it up and attempting to the live the life of a young actress, working odd hours and jobs and serving more cups of coffee and fries than she ever cared to again. It was gritty.

She expected that, at least. She knew it wasn't going to be easy just prancing into New York. She'd prepared herself for that. But there was one thing she didn't prepare for. She'd never been attached that to a person like before, the only thing she'd clung to was her dream. But her dreams had changed. And that contract had burned any bridge she tried to build in her mind. It cut the string of the dream she'd so desperately held onto, instead replacing it with a lifeline of a different sort, an umbilical cord.

She would get her way, though, she always did. She was tough and convincing, and while she knew she wouldn't be able to meet her, to properly talk to her for six more years, six painfully, excruciatingly long years, she needed to be close. As close as possible without breaking the law, in order for her life to become bearable.

A law keeping her away from her own child, locking her up in the prison of her mind. She resented it for so long and drank her troubles away in a phase of a few years. But she was done with that.

She was done with it all.

And so she packed up her few belongings and left. She didn't need to bother informing anyone; she had no friends, no ties or connections whatsoever. It would be as if she was never there. She'd go back to the place she'd always been before this invisible progress of physically nothing and mental torture.

She'd slip back to the place of comfort of being the star, and discomfort of the worst yet best memories she had.

Shelby Corcoran was heading back to Ohio.

GLEE

The day had been considerably long considering the fact of where Shelby spent it all. Not physically, there was no problem, but mentally was a different story.

Shelby Corcoran isn't the nervous type. She has a strong attitude and confidence to spare, but today that was all sort of…changing.

Driving through town she saw all the landmarks. All of the things that haunted her. It all came flashing back and controlling the overpowering emotions was become substantially harder with each of the few red lights.

The ice cream shop whose chocolate milkshake she craved every day while pregnant.

The store she bought the pregnancy test from.

The mall she bought the maternity clothes from.

Her childhood home. God, that one was hard to look at; she had to swallow back tears after thinking of all that occurred after the falling out.

And then there was it. The one she'd been dreading and anticipating the most. It was there, and it was confirmed by the engraving on the stone on the mailbox. 'Berry.'

Shelby Corcoran is not a crier by any means. She hates it. Almost as much as she hates vomiting, but this time her body was threatening both. She couldn't take it right now, and in order not to be a danger on the road she pulled over to a park. It was new, thank God, so there were no overpowering memories there.

She sat in her car and let a single tear fall. And after the single droplet went down her sharp cheekbone, there was no stopping the others. Instead of fighting against she, she decided to submit and allowed herself this rare occasion. It was a right occasion, and as much as she hated the feeling of the tears, she hated the feeling in her gut more.

She quickly took a few deeps breath and fixed her make-up. True, no one would see her, but she always wanted to look her best. It was a sign of professionalism, and it was the least she could to her maturity after letting herself go.

She caught her breath and prepared to drive down to the apartment, what would be her new home. She'd hadn't hade a home for so long. Not really, at least. Home is where the heart is, and she'd left that with her daughter, always thousands of miles away, now only a few dozen apart.

She looked up at her windshield and subconsciously searched, gasping when she saw a girl, about five or six, with long, light brown hair and deep brown eyes. Shelby got an irresistible urge to jump out and hug her.

She controlled this urge, of course.

Plus, it couldn't be her. Rationally, Shelby knew this. She was too young and Rachel would be about twelve now. Okay, so not about twelve. Shelby knew the exact date, and with a calculator could go so far as to tell you seconds and minutes ago she was born. But still, she couldn't help thinking this is what she would look like.

And Shelby was stuck in the past. To her Rachel was still that baby.

And she'd give anything to have her back.

So she told herself to quit it and snapped herself out of it and drove.

Drove to her house.

Drove to her new life.

GLEE

What had she gotten herself into? Why would she ever want to go back to the place where she'd so desperately wanted to get away from? Was she insane?

She had gotten herself into a Glee club coaching job. She wanted to help these kids and somehow, possibly, maybe connect to her daughter. She was certifiable crazy. She was surprised there weren't guys with a straightjacket hovering outside her door at this very moment.

She sat on her couch and stared at the clock for a good portion of the morning before switching to the very productive task of blankly staring at the television. She was having doubts. She wasn't supposed to have doubts. She was Shelby freaking Corcoran for God's sake; she was supposed to be immune to fear. Yet there she was, her stomach churning ever so slightly, her hands daring to shake the tiniest of bits.

This was so much worse than any audition. It was only matched by one thing.

Maybe that was the problem. She was much too close for comfort now. Gravity pulled her to the place she didn't want but desperately needed to be in, and she couldn't figure out whether it was her mind or her heart that was faltering in this situation.

She was so close. So very close and yet so far away from her daughter. From her life that she realized she wanted too late.

Though it was hard, she pushed those thoughts from her head to focus. It was her mission that this wouldn't happen to anyone else. Anyone in that auditorium today would not be sitting and thinking like she was now. They'd be sure of what they wanted. They'd understand and plan for the best.

She was being a hypocrite, but she wouldn't let them see that. She couldn't. She needed to lay down the law so she could lay down at night and sleep, maybe numbing the regrets of yesterday for the sake of her deeds today. Maybe, just maybe, it would dull the ache by prevention. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a retribution for her impulsiveness. Maybe, just maybe, it could be the answer.

GLEE

"There's only one rule, guys. One simple rule that you have to follow for the rest of your time with me as your coach. Sure, there are subgroups and small categories and procedures you have to follow, but they can all be summed up into this one little three-word sentence. Don't be stupid."

She was met with confused looks, some even on the smug side. She ignored them for the time being to continue.

"For those of you who need it spelled out, I've luckily made up a little outline. Note: these rules may be changed or added to at any time I feel necessary without any notice. It's what I feel necessary, so what I say goes. Be responsible and don't epically screw up and we shouldn't have any problems. Deal?"

The auditorium mumbled a general consensus of agreement.

"You'll see on the first page some basic stuff to which if you didn't know already, well, let's just say I weep for humanity. Don't do drugs, no alcohol whatsoever. Period. I absolutely will not hesitate to kick you off the team, no questions asked. I don't tolerate funny business, clear? You make a mistake, you're out. We don't have room for mistakes-"

She was cut off by a rising of the smug boy's hand. Stupid boy. "Yes? And what is your name?" she said, slightly irritated by the mere fact of being interrupted, but held her tongue. She wasn't completely cruel. She wasn't trying to get them to sell their souls…just most of their social lives.

"Clemens. Marvin Clemens. Yeah, um, I gotta question. On your, you know…policy," he said, obviously trying to impress his buddies.

"And what would that be Mr. Clemens?" she asked, folding her arms defensively so that they crossed against her chest.

"Don't you think it's, ya know, harsh? Sometimes you gotta have something to take the edge off. Now I ain't no crack head or nothing, but I'd be lyin' if I say I ain't never had a drink or two to take off the edge, ya know what I'm saying?" he said, high-fiving his pals.

"And I believe that that's wrong, illegal, immoral, and a lot of other negative adjectives that I either can't think of or shouldn't repeat in a school environment. You know what I'm sayin'?" She said, somewhat mocking him.

"Well, yeah, I mean people have been pushing the 'just say 'no'' slogan for like a billion years, but I mean, you can't actually expect us to follow all of them all the time, right?"

"Wrong. This is what I expect out of you, and if you can't handle staying out of trouble and abiding by the simple law, you probably shouldn't be here."

He let out a whistle through his skeptically cocky mouth, "Alright, chick," he said. His expression and words making her clench her jaw and bite her tongue simultaneously, not even noticing her fingernails digging into the palms of her now clenched fists, "I get your petty rule sheet and stuff, but what about a little leeway. Forgiveness, dude, there ain't even warnings? Second chances?"

"There are no such things as second chances. Only first impressions and what you do after. Once the deed is done, that's been your chance, and you can't undo whatever mischief you foolishly worked your way into."

"But man-"

"This isn't open for discussion," she put her palms up ending the conversation, "Either you commit fully to this and follow simple rules that, by the way, should be followed regardless if you're on this team or not, or you leave. Don't even bother wasting my time. Don't ever have to acknowledge me again. So what's it going to be?"

He laughed a little at Shelby's completely non-amused expression. And he thought she was kidding. She was just getting started. "Whatever, dude, I'm just here because my parents make me. I have to say, you're pretty hot, though. You act like a bitch, but you're smoking."

Many students covered their mouths from shock, either hiding gasps or concealing giggles.

Shelby was disgusted at this poor display of ethics, but kept a neutral facial expression. He wasn't getting under her skin. He wanted to play with the bull? She could give him the sharpest horns he'd ever seen. She wanted so badly to kick him off, or even just kick his ass, but restrained herself from both. Firstly since she didn't know if she would find someone to replace him if he tuned out to be a talented little brat, and the ladder since getting fired wasn't in the plan. But, seriously? This is what she was dealing with? There were really no words. She could see all eyes were eagerly on her, which she used to her full advantage. She was center stage, and she would work it to the best of her ability. This was her home court advantage, and boy was the ball in play. So she said the first thing that came into her head. "Wow, congratulations you may just be the stupidest person I've ever had the misfortune of coming into contact with."

"Whoa, there, listen up-"

"No you listen up," she said, getting into his face, pointing her black-manicured finger in his face. "You may have run this show when Mr. Stein was here, but I'm Shelby Corcoran, and I'm in charge now. So if I hear a display of complete vulgarity and utter ignorance like the ones spewing out of your undereducated mouth again, there will be consequences. Can we understand that?"

"Yes," he said, being reduced to looking like a chastised child in the corner, avoiding eye contact and with a slight blush underneath the evidence of manly stubble starting to show up during puberty.

"Yes, what?" She said narrowing her eyes.

"Ma'am," he muttered. She soon changed into a smile at his crushed pride.

"Thank you, Mr. Clemens," she sauntered up effortlessly to the front of the room again. "As I was saying before being oh-so-rudely interrupted," she shot him a quick glare, and mentally snickered at his front teeth gnawing his bottom lip. "I don't do funny business. This includes tardiness. Lateness equals consequences. I don't care if you got stopped by a train. I don't care if your bike got stolen. Frankly, dears, in the real world no one does. It's harsh, but it's the truth, and I could not in good conscience allow you to continue with those bad habits. My suggestion is to be early. And make sure your friends are early as well. You're all held accountable for each other. You're a team, and you'll act like one. When we win we win together, when you screw up you screw up as a unit. You are now a whole. The team is your life, and you have each others backs. "

She looked around to see if there would be anymore breaks in her speech, content to see the kids giving their upmost attention, obviously Clemens walking like a dog with its tail between its legs wasn't a daily occurrence.

"Schoolwork. It's important guys. I know hitting the books is the least of most of your worries now, but that's about to change. You will maintain a minimum of a 3.0 GPA to stay on this team. I will find out about missing assignments, failed tests, et cetera. Each week you'll have your teachers fill out this grade sheet to keep you on track and me informed," she said, handing them each a sheet. "Forge it and I'll find out, I promise. Don't get me wrong, our schedule will be rigorous, but the homework will get done, I'll make sure of it," Shelby stated. There was a symphony of groans from a lot of the general public. Ignoring it, she continued.

"The schedule will be as follows," she said, doling out yet another signature hand-out, "Monday through Thursday, 3:30-6:30 in the choir room. 6:30-7:30 is going to be a break. Now, I'm allowing you to go home or go out for dinner or wherever unless your grades drop or there are behavioral problems in the classroom, in that case, you'll stay here and you'll be doing some extra class work and eat with me. Sounds fun, right? 7:30-10:30 is rehearsal in the auditorium. Curfew is hour an hour after practice lets out, so at 11." The groans were more prominent than ever.

"I understand this seems harsh, but if you want to win this is necessary. Friday schedule is 3:30-9:30 in the auditorium, curfew 11:30. Nothing good happens after midnight."

There was a whisper from the crowd, "that's what she thinks."

She sent out a glare, "just to let you know, if I knew who that was, they would be dearly paying for it. Saturday practice 7:30-3:30-"

"In the _morning_?" A blonde girl asked, shocked at the prospect of getting up before noon on a weekend, Shelby supposed.

"Yes," she said not bothering to look up from her paper, "curfew for weekends is 11:30, same as Fridays. As long as we get everything we need to accomplished, there won't be any Sunday practice for the pure sake of vocal rest. Trust me, your vocal chords and limbs with be thanking you for it."

She was met with a few nervous glances and biting lips.

"Relax, I'm not trying to kill you, then you'd be of no use to me. If you have an issue or an injury, tell me right away. Do not push through it and practice, I mean it. I don't want injuries on stupid stuff that could've been avoided in the first place. If you have a doctor's appointment or get on any new medications you need to tell me so I can work it out. Believe it or not, I care about your health, guys. If you need a sick day, take it, no half-assing stuff or being dumb and coughing all over your teammates. Trust me guys, I get it. I used to be you. I never wanted to miss practice. But my coach didn't stress this, and I ended up with some severe mono my senior year, and you know what?" she asked.

Everyone looked up at her, a bit more at ease and relaxed more annoyance since the curfews had been announced. Some even with a bit of sympathy from the mono news.

"It sucked. If I even suspect you're getting under the weather or sprained somewhere, you can bet I'll march you right down to the Athletic Director or I'll take care of it myself. It's not something to joke about and practicing like that is Russian roulette. Work-outs will be intense so come prepared. No jewelry, girls pull up the hair, sunscreen is going to be important considering the new spotlights we're having put in thanks to our booster club, and I'd say at least 45 unless you want to look like a bottle of ketchup or make a trip to the emergency room for second degree burns. Appropriate practice clothes please. I pray to God I don't have to go into detail since you're all in high school."

Immature giggles followed as Shelby rolled her eyes. Teenagers.

The same blond girl concerned with the time raised her hand at a lightning speed, so quick Shelby thought she might get whiplash. "Are there make-up restrictions?"

That was the big important question? "No, but you'll sweat, so if you're tempted to line your eyes raccoon-style I'll suggest against it considering it'll look like a pair of black eyes when you're done."

She nodded, satisfied with the response.

"Any other burning questions? No?" She asked when no one else raised a hand. "Okay, last thing I have is this. I'm not here to make friends, and frankly I don't care if you like me. You hate me, so be it. You want to kill me all the better, it'll give you steam that you can work off and turn it into a winning routine. I don't care if you hate your teammates either. But I do expect respect, inside and outside these doors. Don't get me wrong, this will be a long year, but if you do as I say, I can guarantee you a Nationals trophy. It's going to take work, and it's going to be hard, but if it's worth it to you you'll know what's good for you and listen to me. And I'll listen to you. We may not be friends, but I'll be there regardless of my opinion for you. Clear?"

The red plush seats were silent.

"All right, I guess I'll see you all tomorrow. Have a nice day, and remember, please: Don't be stupid."

**I love reviews more than Mercedes loves tater tots!**


	3. Don't Talk Back

**Ryan Murphy refused to give me the rights to Glee...so I don't own it yet.**

While digging through the ancient files of her alma-mater, she realized one thing.

Living in a small town sucks. But living in an old small town sucks considerably more.

Not only does everyone know everyone else and their business, but the business of your relatives and behaviors of you as a younger version of yourself as well, and history often determines both your present and future.

Shelby Corcoran just might be one of those people.

Call it karma or whatever else you want, but when she walked inside that school, she did not expect to be met with the bombshell she stumbled upon, that's for sure.

She got to the school considerably early that day, substantially by anyone else's means considering she took it upon herself to arrive at noon when classes didn't even get out until 3:15 and practice didn't start until fifteen minutes after that. However, Shelby Corcoran liked to be prepared, and have the upper hand. And she was determined to be and get both.

She wasn't snooping, not really, she was simply getting background. Okay, yes, she looked through the VA kids' permanent records along with their grades, birth certificates, and pretty much anything within file cabinet range, but in her defense the principal gave her permission, and the act of the search wasn't even the problem. It didn't really even relate to a kid, at least not directly anyhow. One file in particular caught her eyes. It all boiled down to a simple equation.

In the present day you have a seemingly typical family. There is a child by the name of Gavin Cosmos. His father is Jacob Cosmos. His mother is Ariel Bullock-Cosmos.

In the past you have a seemingly typical high school experience. There was a junior by the name of Shelby Corcoran dating a senior by the name of Jacob Cosmos. The other woman was a senior by the name of Ariel Bullock.

In the dozen years she had been gone, Ariel Bullock and James Cosmos had wed. Shelby's high school rival and her ex-boyfriend had gotten married after James Cosmos cheated on her with Ariel Bullock on prom night. And Gavin Cosmos was their son. He was a junior this year. And he was in Vocal Adrenaline. As a professional she was supposed to be impartial. How the hell was she was supposed to be impartial to the child of a man she once thought she'd loved before he cheated on her with the person who'd made her high school life a living hell?

Shelby Corcoran could do composure like no one's business, and she would, but it was going to be hard. On the outside she would treat him like anyone else, or maybe anyone else like him considering she'd be ruthless to all, but she could do so much worse.

Of course it wouldn't be fair to be harsher on him. Just because this kid was a product of a couple of dumb teenagers' snap decision to run off and get busy with a person that wasn't the person they'd come with didn't entitle them to any torture from a person he'd most likely never even heard of. The after effects of two former classmates of hers shouldn't mean he should suffer ridicule from her. He had no control over his own birth. A coach shouldn't be out to get a kid just for the misfortune of the fact of the history between them and their parents.

But that would be harder said then done.

She hadn't even met him and yet she despised him already. Well, maybe not him exactly, but everything he stood for.

He stood for Ariel, toilet papering her house when the coach favored Shelby's singing style on a particular song.

He stood for Ariel's cronies, egging her when Shelby won her out for a solo.

He stood for the Godless woman's snickers when she tripped her in the cafeteria from the jealously because she was the girlfriend of Jacob Cosmos. Emphasis on the 'was.'

Because worst of all he stood for Jacob Cosmos dumping her in front of the entire club right before Nationals. Saying he had outgrown her and that he'd gotten a new girlfriend, one that just happened to be the person who humiliated her at any chance she got, and that they'd be moving the day of graduation. They'd most likely never see each other again. At that point in life her insides were crushed, but now that option was looking better and better.

Shelby Corcoran wasn't a clingy or a needy person, and she spent most of her time alone. But she did have feelings, believe it or not, and she did get hurt. It was that trust thing. She'd trusted Jacob Cosmos not to break her heart into a million shattered pieces, but she rebuilt it on her own. It was harder now. Malleable. More bulletproof from the phony, fake idea of love. The imaginary thing some people mistook for it. She'd vaccinated it, and was now immune to the thought of unconditional adoration. Her heart was hardened by everything she'd been through, but she needed it that way to go on.

She may not trust, but she distrusted. And she distrusted this Gavin kid already.

Sighing, yet still determined to keep her composure, she allowed herself the slightest thing resembling a temper tantrum, and slammed the file shut, replaced it to its place in the drawer, and then slammed that too. Satisfied, her anger and past memories already shoved back down to its hidden rightful place, she looked at the list she'd gotten from the principal and smiled, knowing she'd completed the task she was trying to in the first place.

She had gotten to know them, their skeletons at least, before they knew a single thing about her besides her name and the fact that she could be intimidating.

Not that they'd ever get to know her. The real her, at least.

But she could know them. These kids were see-through, transparent. Shelby Corcoran was trained in reading emotions even not right on the sleeve. She could look deeper; she had that gift of X-ray vision of emotions considering her acting and personal life background.

And now she had countless things she could use against them, she'd picked out the nitty-gritty details and supposed weaknesses according to what she'd found out simply by a couple of pieces of paper, common sense, and some logic

She had practically had a first meeting with them, without them saying a single word. She'd been studying the pictures and all of the records to try and get a decently clear picture of each kid she'd be coaching this year. Of course, the most important part was still fuzzy. She hadn't heard a majority of their voices yet, and she'd heard a grand total of zero actually sing something, so she didn't know if any actual talent existed among them yet.

They didn't need talent though.

If they didn't have it she'd force it upon them. She'd work them so hard they wouldn't have a choice.

She'd make them so talented it hurt…as long as she didn't kill them first.

The melodic clacking of the heels on linoleum was interrupted with a far-off sound the pounding of a fist on a locker and the shaking of the shivering metal door afterwards.

"Nice job at try-outs today, freshman," a muffled voice called out.

"Yeah, congratulations, I think you broke some kind of record for the most tackles…on you!" A second voice said, and hearty, crude laughter followed thereafter.

Shelby rolled her eyes and was about to let the taunting continue. It was a part of high school; after all, everyone had to learn to fight their own battles at one point or another. She sure had to endure her fair share of rude comments, hazing, and teasing in order to maintain her spot on a team. She lived through it, didn't she? Remembering her position as an authoritarian, plus the fact she wasn't in the best of moods considering the information about the blast of the past, she reluctantly made her way over to where she though the scene was taking place.

"We usually have to split up to do this annual task…"

"But, considering you were the only one who didn't make the team this year…"

"You get all the fun, little brother!"

When Shelby turned the corner in a huff, she was simultaneously met with three things.

Firstly, the sight of four large, cocky-looking senior football team members all in letter jackets.

Secondly, the sight of a smaller, more puny-looking kid with curly brown hair, his hands in front of his partially bloody face, only his worried looking right eye peeking out between his index and middle fingers.

And third: an unexpected shower.

"What. The hell. Is on. My face?" Shelby asked in an eerily calm voice. Her eyes were burning from the mysterious liquid, but she knew her glare was even more fiery considering all of the boys were turning red, especially one by the name of Marvin Clemens.

"Excuse me! I believe I addressed you impudent morons! One of you, speak up, now!" She raised her voice to a dangerous level.

She still had it. Even in these situations years of vocal training paid off.

"It's ketchup, toilet water, and milk," one of them bravely admitted.

_How does someone even think to combine such substances?_ Shelby thought.

"And may I ask why you decided to throw such a disgusting mixture on a fellow human being, besides the fact that you are all obviously despicably appalling people?" She asked, her eyes searing in to every single one of them.

"We were just carrying on a tradition," one of them said, not looking all that ashamed.

"Wrong. Answer," she stressed each word slowly, her dark look giving him the decently to at least act abashed. "Now I suggest you all haul your asses into the principal's office immediately, unless you'd like me to physically drag you in there myself which I would be more than happy to do considering I am now soaked in liquid from diseased bowls, condiments, and a great source of calcium."

They were all silent as they turned to head towards the headmaster's office.

"Clemens!" She yelled, and she internally ridiculed him when he winced and slowly turned around.

"Yes, Ms. Corcoran?" He said. Suck up.

"Oh, so I've gone to Ms. Corcoran now? Yesterday I was 'bitch.'"

He slumped his shoulders, "I'm really sorry about that, you know I-"

"Save the butt-kissing for the principal, you're off the team."

"But Ms. Corcoran-"

"No," she cut him off, "My expectations were clear and reasonable, and yet you already managed to break them. I obviously can't rely on you, so don't bother showing up. I don't waste my time with people who aren't one-hundred percent committed, and this shows you aren't."

"But my parents are going to kill me! Please, I'll do anything, I swear," he said, practically on his hands and knees.

"Sorry, should have thought about that before you decided to be stupid. Correction: I'm not the bitch. Payback is."

"You're never going to win without me you know. You're losing your opportunity to be great," he said. The pathetic act wasn't working; he figured he would try out the high-horse one. Oh, Marvin, your stupidity is delightful. He had so much to learn. And the first was not to talk back to Shelby Corcoran.

"I'm sure you're more than replaceable. Now lose the chip on your shoulder and get out of my sight. I wasn't playing games when I said I'm more than capable of forcibly removing you from his hallway," she said, wanting to hurry this up considering the wetness was passing through her fabric wall of clothing and to her skin. It was taking all she had to stay in control and not gag from the nasty combination starting to crust in her hair.

"All of you. Last warning," she said sternly when Clemens decided to start a staring contest, his followers behind him, hesitant, not knowing whether to submit to the crazy lady's demands or stay and support their homeboy. She took a sudden step forward, and they all made the decision to scamper, Clemens visibly gulping and turning away as well.

She let out a frustrated mixture of a groan and a shriek and flipped around ready to clean herself up, aggravated that she only had around a half an hour until practice started now, only to be met with the face of the kid the clan was tormenting in the first place.

She almost wished the entire blend of crap would have landed on her, just so she could send him to the counselor and be on her way to the women's restroom. Unfortunately her wishes were to no avail considering she saw the boy covered in just as much, if not more, slime than she was. Mix that in with the fact she knew he had been bleeding and she knew she had to do something with the panicked youth.

Damn.

She sighed a little and snapped her fingers, "Come on, kid," she said exasperated, walking towards her office.

She was so focused on keeping up her intimidating stride she forgot about the blend covering and slithering along the slippery floor. Shelby Corcoran is not a klutz. She is usually graceful as a ballerina. But her theatrics win out over her common sense sometimes, like in this instance. She attempted to pound the back edge of the heel into the floor for full effect, instead feeling herself get off balance quickly. Her heart did the little flip thing it does when you're about to fall, and she felt her breath catch shallowly and squinted and braced herself for the inept bruising about to occur.

Instead of the tile, however, she felt her elbow being supported mysteriously, and opened her eyes to see the curly-haired kid looking at her with wide-eyes, his breath slightly rapid from rushing to her aid. Thankful for his heroism saving her from inevitable physical pain, but upset at the fact she'd let herself seem like a damsel, she nodded and straightened her skirt.

She cleared her throat, "thank you," she said curtly, as she continued to walk with the kid on her heels, literally, she supposed. She turned the cold, metal handle, and flicked the light on to the bare, organized office. She'd just set it up yesterday, and it was flawless. It wasn't the homiest feeling, but it was civil. Clean. Nice enough. A luxury considering the only affiliation had with the institution was that she was a coach at this school.

"Come inside and don't touch anything. I don't want that wretched concoction invading all of my stuff."

"This really isn't necessary, I'm capable of cleaning myself up," he said bluntly, if not a little defiantly.

She stopped shuffling through her drawers for the plastic wrap she was going to use to cover a chair and raised an eyebrow. He wasn't being rude, but he still had a lot of nerve to defy her, let alone even talk to her after the whole scene in the hallway.

"I'm sure you are," she said in case she'd insulted him. Not that she really cared if she had, but she had to admit, she was rather impressed with his gutsiness.

"Really, I'll be fine. It's not like I need your help."

She crinkled her eyebrows at him, "look, kid, disagreeing with me, especially under the circumstances, is a really bad idea," she said, ripping a piece of the clingy plastic and lying it over an extra chair wooden chair, "sit down," she instructed after she was done coating the furniture.

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed. Smart kid. "What are you one of those no-germ neat freaks?"

"What are you one of those no-friend social freaks?" she snapped back. It was immature, she knew, but she was having a really shitty afternoon, and this kid was not doing anything to help her mood.

"Not completely," she said honestly but smiled a little bit. There was a pause while Shelby went over to her mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, wetting a paper towel with it and thrusting it towards the kid. "You're never going to win without him you know. He's been the lead for three years, and he's the only one that can do the really complicated lifts. He's really strong; he's on the football team with my brother."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to work around him then," she said, taking it with a grain of salt, prancing over to her desk again, ripping a drawer open and snatching a pack of wet-wipes. She was glad she was prepared for situations like these.

"I mean you have Chris, but he's as dumb as a rock. He's been a senior for three years now. He can do a triple back flip, and his voice isn't completely hopeless, but he has trouble memorizing lyrics. Matthew has a decent vocal range from what I can tell, but Mr. Stein grossly over-exaggerated his abilities in my opinion, and offered him no chance to explore his higher ranges with more challenging numbers. Marvin was really the only chance you guys had even if he did have a bad attitude and no interest in the club in the first place," he stated easily. "Plus you were lucky to have him too. You have enough members still, but now there are and odd number of couples: thirteen girls and twelve boys, throwing off the balance if you ever want to do paired numbers. There's always going to be a girl left out."

"What's your name?" Shelby asked, smiling internally, externally keeping a poker face while wiping at her face.

"Jesse St. James."

"Audition for me."

"When?"

"Now."

"The sound is terrible in here. Plus, I have no interest in joining that pathetic club. No one takes it seriously, and I feel my talents would be unappreciated here and put to better use somewhere else. At least with football you get a good rep and not just a neutral one. Vocal Adrenaline isn't chess club scum, but it doesn't earn you a seat at the best lunch table or anything. Vocal Adrenaline is-"

"Is the club I'm the coach of and I believe I just told you to sing for me."

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Something that will impress me."

Jesse tried to look impassive, and she had to hand it to him, he was a good actor, but this was Shelby Corcoran. And she wasn't easily fooled. She saw that little spark in his eyes, and she saw that fire and passion when she was talking about anything that had to do with VA. She saw so much of her in him. Defiant. Tough. Independent. Even in the most inappropriate of situations.

He started busting out his own rendition of Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now," and she couldn't help her upward curling lips.

"It was a little flat but it'll have to do. You were right; we can't have an unbalanced team. Meet in the auditorium at 3:30 sharp."

"I never said I would join," he said, failing miserably at trying to look tough and uncaring. He wanted this. He needed this.

"And I never asked. Don't be late, St. James."

And with that she left the room for the bathroom, needing to clean her hair from the drippy mess.

Even covered in junk, she could make a dramatic exit.

**I love reviews more than Will loves hair products!**


	4. Don't Ever Lose Your Show Face

**I don't own Billy Idol, Glee, RENT, Coke, or anything else mentioned in this chapter…bummer. **

"Stop! Stop! Stop! For the love of God I'm begging you to stop," she yelled out, her hands on her face.

The stage suddenly went still and the music quit abruptly, making the auditorium silent again. Everyone turned to look at their coach who wore a look of shock and abhorrence. "Are you serious?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows and cuing any of them to speak. They all looked at each other and shrugged, wondering what she was asking. "Good God, you're serious aren't you? Okay, well then, we obviously have a lot to work on…"

"Excuse me, Ms. Corcoran?" A freckled girl with dirty-blond hair raised her hand and walked towards and front of the stage.

"Yes, Nicole?" Shelby replied politely with a patient smile.

The girl's eyes got slightly wider, for she had no idea how Shelby could know her name since she'd never spoken up before, this made Shelby's patient smile turn into a triumphant smirk internally. Outside she stayed the same: cool and collected.

"Um, well, in our defense it's only our first rehearsal back. I mean we're bound to be a little rusty considering we haven't practiced all summer," she said biting her lip and shrugging.

"I realize this, and I understand you're just getting into the swing of things with me as your instructor; however I need to make my expectations known early on. This is a simple routine, yet it's the best you have, which, judging by the fact you make it to Regionals, quite frankly shocks me. Things are going to get much harder from here, and if you can't nail something you've practiced dozens of times, then we're going to have a problem. I'm going to take mercy on you today, it would be ridiculous to expect perfection this early on, but I need to let you know that I'm going to push you to your limits. I'm trying to improve you by correcting you, and if it's too harsh for you, I'm afraid I'm not going to make exceptions. Are we in agreement?"

Nicole nodded, looking slightly nervous, but not petrified. Shelby hated to scare the poor kids, but she demanded respect, and she needed to make that known from day one or else there were going to be issues.

"All right, let's try this again. Back in positions. Cue the music," Shelby snapped as they followed orders, obediently prancing and scurrying back to their positions. 'Mony Mony' by Billy Idol, last year's Regional group routine, blasted and pumped again while they started again.

Seeing no real improvement, Shelby put her palm on her face to cool her forehead, and glanced to her right where Jesse was sitting, seeing as he couldn't partake in a routine he had never learned. He had his hand on his chin and his elbow resting on his leg. He looked bored, but she could see him watching intently, absorbing and soaking everything in, and no doubt critiquing too.

Shelby snapped in front of his face, and he glanced over at her. She straightened her back even more so, over exaggerating the fact she wanted him to do the same. He wrinkled his eyebrows, his head cocking in confusion. She rolled her eyes and over exaggerated even more so, nodding as to ask if he got the message. He narrowed his eyes with a baffled expression.

She sighed and leaned over to him.

"Either fix your posture or find yourself a bell tower, we can't have you dancing hunchback," she snappily whispered.

"Oh," he said, fixing his seating.

She smiled, satisfied, and ran a hand over her skirt as a sign of completion, then braced herself to watch the rest of the presentation. She waited for some progress.

It never came.

Finally, _finally_, the song was over.

Shelby pulled her hair up with the elastic on her wrist and made her way under the stage lights. She motioned Jesse to follow her.

"All right, I need everyone to take a seat; I need to show you guys something. This," she began to demonstrate, smiling as wide as she could while she sang the first few bars of the song they had just completed, "is a show face. And this," she repeated the same notes with a look of total uninterest and zero enthusiasm, "is what you're giving me. The first and most important thing you need to remember is to always look the part. You can be the world's worst singer and know it, but if you have a decent show face, you'll look confident, and confidence is key."

All of the students gazed intensely, shielding their eyes from the spotlights.

"Stand up straight and tall and have that smile. That smile is the most important part of a performance. You could be singing the phone book, but this face will make it seem like a freaking work of art. That smile is the difference between a loser and a champion. Inexperienced people don't know how to handle screw-ups. And as much as we're going to try and prevent it, there are components, little tiny errors that probably only I and the performers themselves will notice, that will pop up. Sparsely, because in practice, I'll fix these immediately, but when you're on display in a performance, you need to know how to cover your ass when this happens. I don't care how bad you beat yourself up inside, but you must never, ever, under any circumstances, lose your show face. Acknowledging a failure on stage makes you a failure. And I don't coach failures."

She finished her speech. "Does everyone now understand the importance of a smile brighter than the bulbs you're under?" The generally consensus nodded. "Good, now let's put it into play. Everyone stand up, back straight, feet slightly apart, and flash that smile, let's go people I don't have all day," she said clapping.

She walked along the rows making comments as she went, "too natural, you need more theatricality, you're being too subtle with your talents. Really bright, brilliantly, Brianna, come on. Oh, Jonathon, honey, that's much too fake. Relax, your mouth, dear, relax the muscles."

She continued, "See, now that's too genuine Jacob," she said pausing a bit at his ice blue eyes, a trait he inherited from his father obviously. But there weren't hard like his fathers had been, weren't bitter or rejecting, they were just normal, and for that she breathed a silent sigh of relief, "If it's too genuine you'll never be able to uphold it when you're up there for real with all of the elements. Antony, please, that's a little too over the top. It's borderline creepy like you're a clown in a horror movie. I'd be very afraid to meet you in a dark alley on Halloween with that. That's it, you're getting it, take a little more pressure off the jaw."

"St. James," she stopped directly in front of Jesse and examined him, looking for fault, taunting him to see how long he could uphold it. It was like a stare down, "well done. Can everyone please come over here and look at Jesse?" All the students wandered over to the freshman, some obviously not happy at the prospect of him getting all of the attention. "That," she said pointing, "is a show face, guys."

She glanced at her watch. "Okay, well it's about seven. That'll be it for now. We're doing…fine, I suppose," she left it at that. "Be back in an hour. I need Eberle, Brianna, Nicole, Michael, and Joseph to stay," the others raced out the door while a few of the names she called scowled, their faces distorting in displeasure. "Let's head out," Shelby said gathering up her various clipboards with random scribbling and books with multicolored post-its sticking out the edge and leading them to the cafeteria for the next sixty minutes.

"But Ms. Corcoran, we didn't even bring dinner," Michael whined.

"Speak for youself," Eberle said lifting up a pink lunchbox.

"There's food in the cafeteria preparation area, the lunch people were kind enough to give us permission to use it. Michael, you knew your grades from the start so I don't know why we're having this conversation. And way to come prepared Eberle, I applaud that."

Eberle smiled slightly, blushing a bit.

"I told you about the rules, guys. Most of you aren't off by the 3.0 mark by too much, and if you do well on your next few assignments, you can probably bring them back up within the next week. Plus, it's only an hour; I'll think you'll survive."

"Exactly, and since I'm not off by a lot, I don't think I should have to be here. I'm in all of the honors courses, I have it rough," Michael complained.

"So do I and half the grade, Michael," Joseph said.

"Seriously, dude, give me a break," Nicole chimed in.

"All I'm saying is that I think this is totally rigged. I have to work my butt off in these ridiculous courses, and Eberle gets it easy, and yet she can't even take advantage of it and do well. Unlike Eberle, I actually try; meanwhile over there you have her who can't even get a passing grade in the discrete courses."

"Hey, don't insult Eberle unless you want a fist in your face!" Joseph glared and took a step towards Michael.

"I'm not insulting her, I'm stating a fact. It's not my fault she sucks at school."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, you know that? You mess with Eberle, you mess with us. So I suggest you shut you mouth," Nicole said, joining in, stopping next to Joseph and crossing her arms.

"Enough!" Shelby said, exasperated, flipping around. She hoped they could just quit bickering themselves without her interruption. "All of you, calm down, chill out. Geez, you're acting like a bunch of second graders. Grow up. Michael, you're being rude. Joseph, don't threaten with violence. Ever. I believe I expressed that on the first day. Nicole, watch the language. Now can everyone please just find a seat and start on your homework? I'll be around to make sure you stay on task, and for your sake I'd better find you trying. Break up if you need to, we have practically the whole place," she said, peering around the cafeteria, only a few dozen kids sat in there already either studying or gossiping. "Go, now, we don't have time for procrastination," she said snapping.

She watched the five spread out around the table groups, Michael having a stare against Nicole and Joseph's glares they sent across the room briefly before taking out their books. She turned around to see Jesse standing next to her.

"Oh, Jesse, what are you doing here? You're grades are fine, and as far as I know no behavior issues…" she said, glancing at the list to make sure this wasn't a rare occasion she'd made a mistake.

"Oh I know, but I can't really go anywhere…"

"No car?" She asked sympathetically.

"I'm only a freshman…"

"Right. Well, I'm sure one of the upperclassman would be happy to give you a ride or hang out with you."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said, not bitterly, just like an average comment he would say on a daily basis.

"Oh. Well I would offer, but I can't really-" Shelby started, feeling slightly bad for making him stay because of the lack of transportation. Damn, it was only the first day and she already felt empathetic? She'd have to nip that in the bud immediately. She didn't go soft…

"It's fine, Ms. Corcoran, really. I hang out here every day anyway waiting for my brother's football practice to be out so he can take me home. It's kind of routine by now."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am," he said, walking over to another table where a girl greeted him. She eyed the table for a beat before tearing her gaze away and finding her own table in the back and took out her binder for some song ideas. The wheels were already turning about something they could do. They needed something exciting and original, something that hadn't been done before at Sectionals or even in recent glee competition. They needed something edgy and creative and fun. She got antsy when she thought about it. Almost got the jitters. Oh the power music had on Shelby Corcoran. It seduced her more than any man ever could and gave her more warmth than a pair of fuzzy socks and a scented candle.

She alternating tapping, clicking, and chewing on her pen, flipping through the organized songs, artists and genres, racking through her brain. She wanted something fresh and new, but also classic and relatable. She pondered over for about fifteen minutes before she slammed it shut and glanced up at the clock. She figured it was probably time to check on the kids. Her kids right now. It was strange saying that, even in the broadest term of the phrase.

She loped and laced herself through the adjoined tables and benches, strutting her way over to Michael, who was doodling in a notebook. Surprised that he didn't even try to cover the fact he wasn't giving an effort, she tapped him on the back. He slowly turned around, realizing by now by the jabbing of the perfectly rounded nail who it was, and the fact that he was in pretty deep shit.

"All finished?" She smiled sweetly.

"Mhm," he replied unconvincingly.

"Great job, may I check it?" She said, praising him, knowing her sugary sweetness would make him feel guilty.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, obviously trying to buy time.

"I say may I check it?" She asked, keeping up her clueless façade.

"Um…" He muffled something through his lips.

"Look, just because you mumble incoherent doesn't mean I don't know you're lying. Come on, start working, I've given you ample warnings by now in addition to your rudeness. If I have to tell you one more time there's going to be consequences that I can guarantee you aren't going to like. Begin," she said, giving him a look that left no room for interpretation, waiting for him to slump down and unzip his backpack and take out a hardcover book and opening it before making her next stop.

"Nicole, Joseph, how's it coming over here?"

"Eh," Joseph replied tapping his pencil on the desk.

"Good," said Nicole.

"It would be well," Shelby reinforced.

"Thus exhibiting the fact that I'm getting a D in English," Nicole groaned.

Shelby grinned a little. "What are you reading right now?"

She held up her book, "_Julius Caesar_," she said, scrunching up her nose.

"Shakespeare, huh? I take it he's not treating you too kindly?" Shelby asked.

"Shakespeare is the unkindest cut of all," Joseph said, not looking up from his math book.

Shelby smiled at the pun.

"I just don't get why I have to do this. I want to be a singer, not a history or an English teacher…" Nicole said.

"Believe it or not, Shakespeare can help you with your singing," Shelby replied.

"How?" Nicole replied skeptically.

"Well for starters, understanding the rhythm can help you when you're working on a melody. It has a beat to it within the words. Practicing interpreting things can help challenge you to interpret or write your own songs. And all the vocabulary can help you on the SAT's which will help you get into a good college."

"I guess…but it's still hard."

"Just try and dissect it, you'll get it eventually," Shelby encouraged. "Let me know if you have a really hard time."

"Will do," Nicole said sighing and gazing intently at the page, twirling a highlighter in her hand.

Shelby nodded and glided over to where Eberle was sitting, staring at her Chemistry book so hard Shelby wondered if she was trying to move it with her mind.

"How's it going over here?" She asked, towering about the strawberry blonde, resting her hand on some table space beside her.

"Decently I suppose," Eberle replied, breaking concentration to offer Shelby a resemblance of a happy face.

"Do you need help on something?" Shelby offered, not willing to leave her when she was obviously struggling.

"Nothing in particular. Actually everything. Everything in particular. And that's the problem. I can get the tiny pieces, but the concept as a whole has me puzzled. All of it together is just so overwhelming," she slumped.

Shelby felt slightly empathetic towards her from Michaels' comments earlier. She was at least trying, and seeing the effort the words were even more uncalled for, mixed with the fact he wasn't trying at all made her seethe.

"It's all right, don't stress yourself out, it gives you pimples. Let's see if I can help," she said, taking a seat and glancing at the book. She read over it for a few minutes. "Okay, what don't you understand?"

Eberle went on to explain her trouble spots and Shelby walked her through one, Eberle doing fine when presented with the information orally. "Does that make more sense?"

"Yeah," Eberle nodded.

"Good, now try one on your own," she instructed, sitting back and waiting, confused to see her straining and erasing quite a bit. "It's just like the other one," she said and Eberle nodded with a deep breath, deep in concentration. "Eberle, what's wrong? We just did one of these." She asked a little exasperated.

"Yeah, out loud," she said, turning to talk to Shelby this time.

"What difference does that make?"

"I choke when I have to write them down."

"Why?"

"Dyslexia tends to do that to a person," Eberle said, equal parts snappy, embarrassed, and upset. She put a hand on her face and sighed. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"I never said you were-"

"But other people do," she said looking into her eyes. "And I'm not, I'm not an idiot. They have no idea what it's like to live in a world where everything is mixed up-"

"Well why don't you tell them?"

"They already know. Some of them anyway. Nicole, Joseph, Michael-"

"Michael knows and he was that insensitive?" Shelby asked, surprised.

"He's known since fourth grade. He doesn't believe me. Says it a crock, a made up disease to breeze through and get special treatment, but he has no idea. He has no idea and it's not fair-"

"You're right. It's not fair. But neither is life," she said. Eberle looked hurt, her eyes saddened by her quick comment that came off sharp-tongued. That not being her intention, Shelby breathed out and put her hand on Eberle's to offer some small gesture of apology and sincerity in her suffering. "Everyone has different troubles in life, and while I know this must completely suck, and I am sorry, you have to remember that you have it pretty good. You have Nicole and Joseph and others friends that stick up for you, I'm sure. From what I can tell you're an okay kid, and I think that's a Coach purse next to you if I'm not mistaken. You have your health for the most part; it's just a little bump in the road. It's your little suffering in life, and you can either take it with optimism, or let it turn you into a pessimist."

"But what if this stops me in life? What if I can't graduate high school or never end up getting a job because I can't read it or crunch numbers or even type without trouble? What if it wipes out all of my dreams?"

"Well I guess you're just going to have to work twice as hard. If it's a dream worth having to you, if you _really _want it with every fiber of your being, you'll find a way. Look, Eberle, tons of successful people have learning disabilities. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You don't have to hide it. Just ask for help if you need it, I'm sure tons of people would be happy to help or accommodate you. Not me, obviously, since music doesn't rely on those skills, but still. If you need help otherwise, you can ask."

_What is with this sudden urge to reach out?_ Shelby's insides screamed. Maybe it was because she reminded her of herself. Ambitious, scared, but still bubbly. Determined, fiery, and willing to work. Or maybe it was just something she'd want to say to her daughter if she only could only get a chance to meet her.

"Maybe that's why I love it so much," Eberle's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked over at Eberle, and she could see she had her eyes closed, melting into the topic. "You can just use your ears and voice and that's all that matters. It takes all the pressure off. It's a different part of your brain, you know? That part where you can connect with something using a tone. Something you interpret takes on a different meaning for everyone, and no one can tell you you're wrong. It's like magic," she said, looking over at Shelby. "I'm sorry, that was a little over-the-top," she said shaking her head and picking up her pencil again.

"No, I get it. I really do. And I can make your voice be the ticket out of here. I can make it so your dreams become a reality and curse those doubts you have. But before you submit with those dreams, you have to get through this first. And it's not going to be easy, but nothing is easy. Not if it's worth fighting for," she said, giving her hand one last pat and walking away, leaving her with only those little tokens of wisdom and walking over to where Brianna was originally at, furrowing her eyebrows when she didn't see the girl there.

The mystery was solved in an instant when she heard a thump and turned to see Brianna over by a soda machine. She walked over to examine the situation.

"Stupid freaking thing, can't even give me the correct drink even though I pressed the damn buttons," Brianna said angrily to herself.

"It gave you a Coke, Bri," Jesse chimed in, seeing as his seat was over by the vending machines.

"I know it gave me a Coke, but I pushed the button for a _Diet_ Coke," Brianna stated like that was obvious, visibly frustrated and rolling her eyes.

"Why can you only drink Diet Coke?" the girl sitting by Jesse asked. She gasped, her face lighting up in supposed recognition, and covered her mouth in shock "are you from Cyberland?"

Shelby stifled a laugh, not wanting to be caught spying, noticing the reference right away.

"Really, Bri, it's okay. Just try it," Jesse relayed.

"Leap of fate, leap of fate!" the girl said back immediately, theatrically.

"I can't even understand what you're saying," Brianna said in confusion.

"Just jump!" Jesse said, urgently.

"What?" Brianna asked, nervous by the urgency in his voice.

"The only thing to do is jump over the moon!" the girl exclaimed.

"Okay, this is ridiculous. I'm done trying to decode your freakishness."

"So I guess this would be a bad time warn you that you're about to be pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse?" Jesse asked.

"It's like your speaking in tongs or something."

"The expression is 'speaking in tongues,'" the younger girl said.

"Whatever," she said, walking away, taking the red can with her.

"Moo," the younger girl whispered quietly, waiting until Brianna was out of ear range before turning to Jesse and cracking up.

Shelby's intention was to go check on Bri, but her curiosity got the best of her, and she found herself subconsciously being pulled towards Jesse and this mysterious chick.

"Hello Jesse," Shelby said.

"Oh, hey," he said, going back to his book.

She cleared her throat.

"What?" Jesse asked.

"You going to introduce me?" She asked, making a nodding gesture toward the brunette beside him.

"Oh, right. Shelby, this is Mary. Mary, this is Shelby," he said casually.

"Oh please, call me Ms. Corcoran," she said, gritting her teeth in his direction and the latter part of the sentence.

Mary didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, hello," she said, sticking her hand out confidently.

"Hi. What grade are you in?" Shelby asked, sparking up some conversation. The girl looked much younger up close, and her height didn't help her.

"Eighth, but I take a few freshman courses. And I'm only twelve. I skipped kindergarten, so I'm really young for my grade as is," she explained.

"Impressive. Well I look forward to seeing you next year. I'm assuming you'll try out for glee club considering your obvious interest in musicals."

"Oh, that," she said giggling a little. "Jesse kind of got me hooked."

"And now she knows more than me," Jesse said nudging her.

"Are you guys good friends?" Shelby asked.

"We sort of have to be," Mary said, prompting another nudge from Jesse. Our siblings date each other, and have been on and off since about third grade. They're both seniors this year, so we sort of grew up together."

Jesse nodded in agreement.

"Interesting. Well, it's almost time to start rehearsal again, so, Jesse, time to pack up. Pleasure to meet you; hope to see you again soon, Mary."

"Same to you," she said with a smile.

"Oh, and Mary? Thank you. You've given me an idea. And what a glorious idea it is," she said happily.

She rubbed her fingers together before sticking them in her mouth, producing a shrill, loud whistle that everyone heeded to. "Vocal Adrenaline, let's get going," she announced.

Oh yeah, she still had it.

**If you were with Brianna on this one and were completely confused about what in the world they were talking about, those lines are from 'Over the Moon' from RENT, performed by the lovely Idina Menzel. RENT references…you got to love them. I love reviews too! So, review. Please. Thanks. =)**


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